A wonderland
for lost souls like me—
found yet not bounded
by chains without keys.

Words like prayers,
I kept in this sacred land.
Now I'll have to cross another border line—

My forest of memory wilts,
as guards struck this ground
with their awful sign without any guilt.

Leaves turned bills and fruits became pennies—
When all I ever wanted was a sanctuary for my poems away from reality.


© Just_rheaaa17